The Dance
by kaly
Summary: Decades later, Jack remembers losing - and loving - Ianto. Jack/Ianto.


Title: The Dance  
Author: kaly  
Characters: Jack, Ianto  
Parings: Jack/Ianto  
Word Count: 2400  
Rating: PG  
Category: angst, smarm, future fic  
Warnings: angst  
Spoilers: TW 2x13 - Exit Wounds  
Summary: Decades later, Jack remembers losing - and loving - Ianto.

Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing. All hail the BBC and RTD.

Note: Please heed the angst warning (this story so didn't do what I'd planned), though there's peace to go with the angst, I promise. Thanks to ndannais for glancing at it for me.

The Dance

Sitting in his office, Jack couldn't help thinking that - cliche though it may be - the more things changed, the more they really did stay the same. He smiled, watching as the members of his team piled through the cog door, headed out for the pubs, or a pull, or even home perhaps. It was a scene he had witnessed more times than he could count over the years - comforting, in a way.

It had been an exhausting day, the team had been fractured and scattered, chasing over a dozen items that the Rift had spit out almost simultaneously, and all before dawn. They had all earned the respite from work, even if it was only for a few hours.

Without them, the Hub was still, the near-silent lapping of the water in the pool the only noise. In such moments, Jack found that he missed Myfanawy most. During the long hours of the night, when there was nothing but memories and ghosts to fill the void, she had been a welcome compatriot.

It had been years since she had last flown round the Hub, graceful and imposing all at once. Far too long.

With a heavy sigh, Jack stood. Half-heartedly, he straightened the endless paperwork that littered his desk before quickly descending the ladder to his room. He didn't bother with the lights, just began pulling his clothes loose, and dropping them onto the floor. It was rare he felt tired enough to sleep. And when he did, well, the clothes could be cleaned up later.

Groaning, he sank into the mattress, wishing he had thought to replace it sometime in the past ten years or so. He really hadn't used it enough to be bothered, except when he wanted to use it.

Jack let his eyes fall closed, squirmed a bit before letting out a long breath and relaxing. It didn't feel like anytime at all before the unfamiliar tug of sleep pulled at him and Jack felt himself drifting away.

What felt like only seconds later, Jack gasped for breath, sitting up straight in the bed. Gulping for air, he looked at his watch to find that over two hours had actually passed since he had closed his eyes. Shaking his head, as though the cobwebs might be swept away, Jack cleared his throat.

He tried to remember what had pulled him from sleep so suddenly, barely giving a thought to the fact he had actually managed a rare, solid two hours of sleep. The images eluded him, and Jack began to lay back down when he was overwhelmed with the memory of blue eyes, and a coy smile.

The images were immediately followed by those same eyes, glazed and unfocused; the mouth lax and blue. Jumping out of the bed, Jack glared at it as if it was responsible for the memories - memories that he had done his best to forget - overwhelming him.

Closing his eyes, Jack rubbed a hand over his face and took a shaky breath. It had been years - decades, even - since that day. Almost any memory of Ianto was welcome - a dream doubly so - but not this one, not the day a part of him had died when Ianto bled out in his arms. He had done his best to bury that day along with Ianto, choosing to remember his lover whole and strong. It was the only way to cope after so many losses.

But suddenly, one dream and years of willful ignorance was undone, images and feelings and despair overpowering him. He ground the heels of his hands against his eyes, but the memories pressed inward, forcing him to his knees.

They had been too far away from civilization, chasing down a seemingly insignificant lead, when the attack had happened. The artifact they had been chasing had actually turned to be a half-cloaked ship, carrying an enraged Talaxian. The seven-foot tall, horned alien had attacked from behind a rock outcropping before they knew what was happening.

Hearing Ianto's cry, seeing him fall, Jack had shot the bastard without a second's thought. He noted the creature collapsing, only so much as to determine the threat was eliminated. Dropping to his knees he pulled Ianto free of the alien, before clutching his shaking, gasping body to his own.

"Ianto..."

Ianto looked up at him, smiling even as blood gurgled up from his throat, coating his lips. Jack pressed his hand to Ianto's chest - and the gaping hole that now filled it.

"J'k."

Jack pressed a hand to Ianto's face, absently noting how clammy the skin felt to his touch. He tried to smile, only to end up half choking, half sobbing. "Hold on, okay? Just hold on." He tapped at his earpiece, knowing it was useless, hearing nothing but static.

Ianto jerked his head, the closest he could manage to shaking it. "J'k..." Ianto convulsed, but Jack could see him clenching his teeth, determined. "G'bye. Lo..."

"No!" Jack cried, shaking Ianto roughly. "You do not give up. I'll fix this." Gasping back a sob, Jack shook his head, sniffing loudly to defy the tears. "You're not leaving me, damn it. I won't let you." Ianto tried to raise his arm, and Jack grasped the hand, pressing it to his own cheek before kissing the palm. "Please..." Jack gasped, more air than word.

Ianto didn't speak, but Jack saw the knowing disbelief in his eyes - and the understanding and love that shone there as well. Taking a gasping breath, Jack covered Ianto's mouth with his own. He screwed his eyes shut, focusing on pouring himself into Ianto, willing the wounds to close and the blood loss to stop.

What good was his curse, if it offered him no true salvation? And when Jack pulled back, gasping for air, tears running down his face and onto Ianto's, he knew there was no purpose. He had felt Ianto slip away, his body gone limp. Pressing his hand over Ianto's lifeless eyes, Jack closed them for the last time.

Sobs overtaking him, Jack curled around Ianto's prone form. He didn't even realize he was screaming until he heard the sound echoing through the trees. Throat raw, he rocked them both back and forth, until Ianto's hair was wet with Jack's tears.

"I'm sorry," he finally choked out, pressing his lips to Ianto's temple.

He couldn't remember bringing him home, to the Hub. Jack could recall with startling clarity, even after so long, every breath Ianto struggled to take, the few words he had choked out and the brilliant blue of his eyes. But of carrying Ianto to the SUV, driving them back into Cardiff where Gwen and Martha met him, mascara and tears covering their faces, of that there was nothing.

That night, for the first time since he and Ianto had become serious, Jack retreated to the rooftops and put his revolver in his mouth. When he woke, there was little more than a raging headache. He lay there, staring at the stars as though nothing had happened, before punching the concrete until it was stained red, and for the briefest instant, something hurt more than his heart.

They had found him there, and days later when he could next remember anything clearly, Jack discovered Martha had sedated him with a cocktail strong enough even for his metabolism. At the time he had railed at her, saying horrible, cruel things. In the end, eventually, he thanked her.

Forcing his eyes open, Jack looked around his room. He hadn't changed it much since back then, a few mementos here and there but overall it was the same. Ianto would recognize it, without question - though with his eye for detail he would no doubt be able to name every change.

Jack forced himself to stand, wiping the remaining tear tracks from his face. He took two steps to his small desk; it was an antique though he had bought it new, and it never held work. No, it was guardian to things far more precious and irreplaceable. It was where he hid the pieces of his life, tucked away, safe and secure. Everyone he had cared for and loved, since coming to Cardiff so many, many years ago, lived there.

The chair made a horrible racket as he pulled it away from the desk, dropping exhaustedly onto it. Jack rested his head in his hands for a long moment before pulling open the bottom most drawer, and withdrawing a brittle cigar box. Ever so carefully, he opened the lid and pulled out the pictures it held.

Some were weathered and old, yellow and dog-eared. Others were newer, crisp and the colors still brilliant. Within them were the two Jack sought, and he placed them aside before replacing the others with great care. After returning the box to its place, Jack leaned back in his chair, picking up the two remaining.

The first was a close up of Ianto. Tosh had taken it one day, while playing with her new camera, she had driven all of them insane that day - especially Owen. Jack smiled at the thought of them. Time had eased the wound of losing two of his earliest recruits, even if they would be forever missed.

The photograph she had taken showed the Ianto Jack remembered best, the Ianto he adored in so many ways. His eyes were bright, his mouth tilted in a smirk, hiding restrained laughter. Jack couldn't help but run his fingertips over the surface, skimming Ianto's cheek. He wished he could remember what had made Ianto laugh, but it was long since lost.

Smiling, Jack laid the picture back on the desk and turned his attention to the next. Ianto had been gone for several months when Martha had approached him timidly. She had hovered in the doorway of his office, hands hidden behind her back, before she had seemed to make up her mind and stepped forward.

His heart had stuttered in his chest when she revealed what she had been hiding, and dropped a photograph onto the desk's surface. "I thought..." She bit her lip, staring off into space, before finishing, "I found this footage by accident, asked Alis if she would print it off of the CCTV feed for me."

Barely breathing, Jack had hardly dared touch the photo. Everything had hurt so badly, for so long, even the good memories had been too much to bear. But here, in the form of a small gift, was everything he had known and loved. And he knew what Martha was trying to say - that some things, some moments and most importantly some _people _needed to be remembered.

He had thanked her in a rough voice, barely noticing as she had hurried from his office. All Jack could see was the moment in time captured forever on glossy paper.

Years later, Martha and Gwen also long since lost and still very much missed, Jack stared at the photograph that had, in some way, brought Ianto back to him that day.

He smiled, warmth washing over him and soothing the jagged ache that his dreams and memories had wrought. Closing his eyes, he could remember everything, all the little details, of the moment in the photograph. And for the first time in far too long, Jack let the memories was over him, as though it had only happened days earlier.

"Penny for them?" Ianto asked, leaning against the doorjamb with his hands in his trouser pockets.

Jack smiled, putting down the papers he had been little more than rearranging. "Nothing all that important. The others gone?"

"Yep." Ianto straightened, crossing the office and leaning against Jack's desk. "Gwen left a while ago after Rhys called. Martha and Mickey just headed out."

Nodding, Jack leaned back in his chair, and reaching out to thread his fingers through Ianto's. "And you?"

"Clearly I left some time ago," Ianto replied, his lips curling in his familiar, understated smile.

Laughing, Jack nodded. "Clearly."

Ianto looked at Jack for several moments, and Jack was content to simply enjoy the peace. "Come back to mine?" Ianto eventually asked, rubbing his thumb across Jack's hand.

"In a few. Just a bit more to do here."

Nodding, Ianto stood and smiled. "I'll make one last walkthrough then..." he paused when Jack refused to let go of his hand. "Jack?"

Jack couldn't help but smile at Ianto's confusion. Standing, he cupped Ianto's cheek with his free hand, and pressed his lips to Ianto's in a chaste kiss.

When they pulled apart, Ianto smiled, but Jack could see he was perplexed. "Jack?"

"Just..." Jack shrugged. He knew - better than most - that some moments, however simple, couldn't be allowed merely to walk away. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed Ianto's hand and asked, "Just stay?"

Ianto smiled then, the confusion gone, his eyes gone soft. "Of course," he said quietly. "Are you okay?"

Nodding, Jack pulled Ianto closer. He pressed their joined hands to his chest, and wrapped his free hand around Ianto's back. "I'm absolutely perfect," he whispered when he felt Ianto's hand on his back.

Slowly, he began to move gently back and forth, dancing not so unlike at Gwen's wedding. Jack shivered when Ianto pressed his face to the side of his throat, humming contentedly. Kissing the side of Ianto's head, Jack sighed, happy.

Absolutely perfect.

A single tear fell onto the picture, and Jack carefully blotted it before it could damage the print. It wasn't entirely irreplaceable - Martha had later given him a CD with the video burned onto it, which was also closely guarded - but it was precious all the same.

It was a gift of friendship, to remind him of the power of love at a time he had let himself forget for the pain. He might live forever. He might live and love and hate and lose time and time again. But staring at the image of himself and Ianto, dancing to music no one could hear, was proof that he was always loved - and he would always be able to love.

end


End file.
